Those We Leave Behind
by mocothecat4218
Summary: Three (original) characters live, love, and die in the Battle of the Five Armies. Part 1: Tinueth is both the youngest princess of Mirkwood and member of the Woodland Guard. Her constant training has estranged her from her two siblings against her best intentions. But when disaster strikes, Tinueth has to choose whether to follow orders or her own heart. Runs from DOS to BOTFA.
1. Tinueth: Death in the Forest

**Welcome to my first (real) Hobbit/Lord of the Rings fanfiction! **

**The prologue of this story was first published under the title Intertwining Paths, but I wrote the rest of the story and I realized I wanted to change it a little bit. I hope to have regular updates on this story, depending on how busy my schedule is. Reviews motivate me to write faster :). **

**In case you didn't glean this from the summary, the story centers around three original characters-two elves and a human. Each character gets ten chapters and a prologue before the POV switches. All of the Hobbit characters are featured in the story as well, and the events are mostly canon up to Part 4. I wrote that before I saw the third movie. Updates should be about every two to three days. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit, the Lord of the Rings, or anything you recognize.**

**I think that's everything (my author's notes are not usually this ridiculously long).**

**Enjoy the story!**

Death in the Forest

It was long past midnight, but Legolas still wasn't asleep. He didn't plan on sleeping at all tonight either, if he could help it. How could he, when his baby (half) sibling would be arriving any minute now?

Just then, there was a soft knock on his bedroom door. "Come in." he said, turning to greet his guest, though he already knew who it was.

His adopted sister, Elira, entered the room and knelt on the braided rug at the foot of his bed. She was 830 years old, just like him. They weren't related by blood, but Elira had been a part of his family for 300 years now-ever since the seaside town she'd lived in as a child had been destroyed by an orc pack and her family killed. He considered her his own sister. "I thought you'd be up." she said matter-of-factly.

"How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Lucky guess. You couldn't sleep, could you?"

"No. Could you?"

"Nope. Are you nervous?"

"What do you mean? Why should I be nervous?"

"Well…what if you don't like your new sister or brother, for some reason?"

"I will. Believe me, I will."

Eliera didn't question him. She'd had a younger sister at one point and she knew exactly how the nervous anxiety felt.

The door opened again and Thranduil, Legolas's father and king of the Woodland Realm, stepped into the room. He looked exhausted. His cape was hanging by one button, as if he hadn't had a chance to tie it properly. On a normal day, this wouldn't be tolerated. However, this wasn't a normal day. "Legolas, come meet your younger sister."

"Really?" Legolas leapt to his feet, practically jumping up and down in his excitement. "How is she? What's her name?"

"She's doing fine, as is Calliesta. We've decided to name her Tinueth."

Elira stood up as well. "Tinueth…that means little star, right? That's a pretty name. I like it."

"I thought you might. We actually got the idea from you and your talk of stars." Thranduil gifted her with a rare smile. Elira had always thought that he had plenty of smiles for Legolas, but hardly any for her. It didn't bother her, though; it just made the ones she did receive all the more precious.

The three walked through the empty palace hallways to the infirmary. Calliesta, Thranduil's second wife, was sitting up in a bed, holding something wrapped in a pink blanket. Legolas really liked Calliesta, even though she'd only been married to his father for a couple of centuries. She always had time for him and Elira, and she never talked down to them like some of his father's advisors did. "Well met, Legolas and Elira. Come and meet your new baby sister." she said, shifting the blanket so the two elflings could see inside.

Legolas climbed onto the bed so he could see better. Tinueth was tiny, with her father's blonde hair and blue eyes. Legolas loved her immediately, as he ran a finger carefully through the bit of blonde fuzz that coated her forehead. She regarded him with interest, watching his finger with her eyes.

"Can I hold her?" Elira asked quietly, hesitant to disturb the moment.

"Of course." Calliesta gestured for her to take a seat at the foot of the bed and handed her the baby. Legolas moved so he was sitting next to her, wanting to stay as close to his little sister as he possibly could.

"Well met, Tinueth. You're lucky that you have such a nice family. I should know. I owe them almost everything." Elira whispered conspiratorially. "Welcome to the world, daughter of starlight."

Legolas didn't know for certain, but he thought he saw Tinueth smile.

TWLB

Two centuries passed in relative bliss. The forest of Greenwood the Great prospered, its people rich and well fed. The royal children slowly grew up. Of course, there was the occasional orc raid or spider attack, but for the most part they never experienced tragedy or sorrow.

All that changed two days after Tinueth's 218th birthday.

To better educate his children in the customs and traditions of other elven realms, Thranduil would occasionally bring Calliesta and the children on trips to Rivendell or Lothlorien when he went to meet an ambassador or head of state. He had just come from one of these trips-a week-long stay in the house of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. His children had gotten along with Elrond's three children: Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen. Arwen especially had loved to play with and pamper Tinueth.

He glanced back at the two horses behind him, both walking at a steady pace toward the forest. Legolas, mounted on one, leaned over to say something to Elira, who was seated on the other horse. They both laughed. From the horse next to him, Calliesta gently touched his shoulder. "Is something wrong, Thranduil?"

"No." He continued look at the children, soon to turn a millennium old. They had established a bond between them that no one could break. Sometimes, he suspected that they could read each other's thoughts.

Calliesta followed his gaze. "They're very close, aren't they?"

"Yes. You would almost think that they were siblings."

"They are-just not by blood. When Tinueth grows up a bit more, we'll have our hands full."

They'd reached a fork in the road and Thranduil faced forward in order to lead his horse down the left path. His back was turned for a fraction of a second-but it was already too late.

Out of nowhere, a group of men clothed in black had materialized from the trees and descended upon Legolas and Elira. One was choking the crown prince while the others tried to drag Elira into the forest. Both elves were fighting as hard as they could, but it wasn't hard enough.

Immediately, Thranduil leapt from his horse and pulled out his sword. With one quick movement, he slit the throat of the man choking his son. Legolas fell to the ground, gasping for air but otherwise unharmed. "Are you hurt?" Thranduil asked quickly, assessing him for injuries.

Legolas shook his head. "You have to help Elira!"

The men still carrying Elira had disappeared into the trees, probably looking for a ransom. Thranduil knew he had to go after her, but he was still hesitant to leave his wife, son, and daughter alone. However, Elira needed him more. "Take care of the family." he instructed Legolas. Then, he ran into the bushes.

The men were not far away. They were obviously not well trained, as he was able to dispose of all of them in a matter of moments. Elira contributed where she could, lashing out at the men with one of her daggers.

"Are you all right?" Thranduil asked Elira, once the ground was littered with the dead men's corpses.

In answer, Elira rolled up her sleeve to reveal a rapidly forming bruise on her arm. Then she started to cry-more out of fear than pain.

"It's all right. We're all safe now. There's no need to cry, Elira. Your bruise will heal in time. You'll forget it's even there." Briefly, he noticed a strange black mark on the back of her wrist. He gently touched it, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was.

Elira tried valiantly to regain her composure but only cried harder. "I'm sorry, Thranduil. I wanted to help, I really did…" she managed to choke out in between sobs.

"There is nothing to apologize for, young one. Now, should we go back to Legolas, Calliesta, and Tinueth?"

Elira nodded eagerly.

They began to walk back toward the others. Thranduil even allowed Elira to braid his long blonde hair a bit-just this time.

As soon as he reached the road, he knew something was wrong. Lying in front of his other family members was another dead man-and a knife was embedded in Calliesta's heart.

There was so much blood…

"What happened?" he asked as he raced over. Elira rushed to Legolas, who was trying to comfort a wailing Tinueth.

"He came out of nowhere and Calliesta stabbed him-but he stabbed her, too." Legolas replied numbly. He seemed to be in shock.

Thranduil knew that Calliesta couldn't survive for long unless he acted quickly. "We need to go to the Iron Hills. The dwarves who live there can help us." he said. He didn't particularly like dwarves-but his wife meant the world to him.

The short ride to the Iron Hills was tense to say the least. They were losing Calliesta more and more with each minute that passed.

Finally, they reached the Hills. Thranduil rushed into the middle of the dwarven palace, for once not caring who saw them or what they might think. If they had something that could help Calliesta, it would all be worth it. "Help us. My wife is gravely injured." he said, facing the king of the Iron Hills-Dain.

Dain looked down on the family, expressionless. "Your kind is not welcome here, Thranduil."

"Believe me, I would not be here if I had another choice. However, my wife will not survive the journey back to our home."

"I cannot help you. We are fighting a war on our eastern front. Many of our soldiers are wounded. We need the medicine for them."

"Are you saying you cannot help us-or you will not?"

Legolas stepped forward. "Please help Calliesta. You can help her, can't you?"

Dain seemed to consider the prospect, but eventually turned away from the elves. "No. I cannot. She is beyond our help. Leave now."

Thranduil left in a fit of rage. "Someday, you and your kind will rue this day!"

It was no use.

Calliesta died not two miles from the Iron Hills' doors.

Thranduil detested funerals.

He didn't like seeing Calliesta lying there on a bed of roses because she looked so…dead. She'd always been full of life and energy. She'd never once looked like she did now.

It was because she wasn't the same person anymore. She was dead. If Thranduil had felt anything besides an overwhelming numbness, he would have cried. It didn't seem fair to him. He'd already lost his first wife. Her death had been devastating. He'd never wanted to experience anything like it again-yet he had. And now all of his children would grow up orphans. He wouldn't remarry again. He was finished with love.

Legolas, Elira, and Tinueth were seated in the pew in front of him. Elira was frantically trying to keep Tinueth from crying, though her eyes were shiny with tears. Thranduil knew that she felt responsible for what had happened, even though it wasn't her fault-any of it. However, he knew that telling her so would do no good. Her mind was too set in her guilt. He knew the feeling well.

He was beginning to worry about her. She'd become extremely drawn and closed in the weeks since Calliesta's death-even more so than Legolas or Tinueth. And it wasn't that she didn't have anything to say. She had just stopped speaking to people outside of the family. It was almost as if she couldn't. He glanced at her wrist again. The black mark was still there. This confirmed his suspicions; the mark was of magic origin. His family had lost too much that day in the forest.

He would never be the same elf he was before the killing. His children would never be the same. Thranduil realized he had to do something, before there was another attack on his family and another member died.

In that moment, he turned to his youngest daughter. Tinueth was more like him than Legolas was, more serious and eager to please. She had the make of a warrior. Of course, she was too young for anything now, but when she was old enough, he would train her to be the best fighter of the Woodland Realm and personal bodyguard to Legolas and Elira.

She would be his little soldier.

**This is Tinueth's prologue chapter. The next ten chapters will be focused on her. Elira will also have a part of the story later on.**

**I wrote this chapter a long time ago-probably around April or May. I didn't know much about the jewels in Erebor at the time. However, I felt like there had to be a reason why Thranduil didn't help the dwarves in An Unexpected Journey-not even offering them food or shelter after the dragon drove them away. Of course, elven grudges run deep and the two races never got along, but I wondered if there had been some kind of personal cost in the relatively recent past that had led to further estrangement between the two races. So, I invented the little scene in the Iron Hills.**

**I'm also posting another chapter, which takes place during the time of the Hobbit, so you can get a better idea of what the rest of the story will be like.**


	2. Tinueth: Dancers and Soldiers

Chapter 1-A Soldier, Not a Child

1,200 years later

Centuries had passed, but Tinueth could still clearly remember the night she first saw the dancers.

It had been a warm summer night, too hot and sticky for sleep to be possible. She'd tossed and turned for what had seemed like hours before finally giving up and lying still. She was forbidden to leave her room at night. Her father had always stressed that good sleep was an essential part of excelling during training, and Tinueth usually followed his orders because he always knew best. In fact, she never knew quite what compelled her to leave her room and creep around the palace in the middle of the night. She might have called it fate, if she'd believed in such a thing.

She walked for a while, as quiet as a mouse. She could feel the ground pulsing with energy beneath her feet as the Forest Rive rushed merrily by below the palace. Before she knew it, Tinueth found herself looking down at the formal ballroom-which happened to be filled with elves. She ducked underneath a convenient potted plant, breathing heavily and praying to every god and deity she could think of that she hadn't been seen. She had no wish to spend the next week in the dungeons.

After about ten minutes had gone past without someone yelling at her accusingly, she dared to peek over the edge of the railing again and watch the elves below.

However, these beings didn't look like elves. They seemed to be made of pure starlight, weaving in and out between each other in complicated patterns. They moved their bodies of one accord, in perfect harmony.

They were dancers.

Tinueth found herself unable to tear herself away from the sight of the elves dancing, lighter than air. She watched with rapt attention for the rest of the night as they danced for hours, practicing and polishing their moves. There would be a ball in a few days' time and they had to prepare. Tinueth didn't notice any flaws or hesitations at all though. The dancers seemed ethereal and perfect. They were…beautiful.

At that moment, she realized that she had to be a dancer someday too.

Unfortunately, that dream hadn't worked out just yet.

"Tinueth! Pay attention!"

Tinueth snapped back to the present day. Daydreaming was her weakness; her trainers always said that it would get her killed in battle one day. She wasn't a dancer-and knowing her father she probably never would be. She was a soldier. Someday, she would be known as the Protector of the Woodland Realm, skilled with many weapons and battle strategies. She'd been training for this job almost since the day she was born. She'd been shooting targets since she could walk and sparring since she could hold a sword. Sets of knives hung over her bed, ready for her to grab if necessary. The weapons felt natural in her hands, like a quill and ink did to her adopted sister.

Every Wednesday she had her evening meal with her father. Every week without fail he reminded her of her mission and grilled her about her training. He assured her that someday she would be respected by all her subjects in the forest, even though she was unnaturally pale and small for her age. He instilled in her a sense of duty, purpose, and most of all obedience. She would never, in any situation, knowingly betray or disobey her father. He was her master. Soldiers didn't betray their masters.

She spent hours a day going from one training session to another-like the one she was in right now.

Tinueth raised her bow to shoot the wooden target in front of her, but before she could loose her arrow she was interrupted by a knock on the heavy door of the training room. Her instructor for the day held up a hand for her to lower her weapon as he went to greet their visitor. "Enter!" he called. Tinueth didn't know his name. Of course, he'd probably told her at some point, but she'd since forgotten it. In a few months he'd be replaced with another member of the Palace Guard as they cycled through their position. Sooner than that, if her skills began to surpass his own.

Tauriel, the captain of the Guard herself, walked in. She strode purposefully across the training room floor so she could hand a piece of paper to Tinueth's instructor. "Prince Legolas requests an audience with his sister, Princess Tinueth."

Tinueth looked to her instructor for permission. Inside her chest, her heart leapt the tiniest bit-as much as she would allow it to. Next to her father, her siblings were the most important people in her world.

"You may." he replied, bowing to Tauriel in a respectful show of inferiority. Tinueth followed Tauriel outside, trying to match her stride to stride.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Tauriel relaxed slightly. "You don't need to act so formal, Tinueth. There's no possible way they can see or hear us now."

Tinueth didn't always enjoy Tauriel's visits. Granted, the elf was very nice and good at making conversation, but she was always trying to get Tinueth to relax. She didn't seem to realize that Tinueth couldn't relax, and that doing so would be disobeying an order, in a way.

She never disobeyed orders.

"My father has eyes everywhere." she answered instead, making sure she kept her back ramrod straight. "Why did Legolas request an audience with me?"

"You're his sister. He wanted to spend time with you. I don't think he feels like he sees you enough."

It was true. He didn't. "Half."

"What?"

"I'm his half-sister, not his sister. There's a difference."

"Not really. You can still share a close bond."

"No, we can't. I cannot have an emotional bond with someone I am sworn to protect. I might have to give up my life for that person at any moment, and I wouldn't want them to mourn my passing."

"Who told you that?"

"My father."

"He talks to you about your impending death?"

"Not all the time. Just every great once in a while. I think he is right to prepare me."

"You're still a young teenager. You shouldn't have to worry about dying."

"Tauriel, I'm not a young teenager. I am a soldier. Besides, the forest is still relatively safe. By the time I have to go to battle, I'll probably be an adult."

Tinueth knew Tauriel wasn't convinced. One only had to go on patrol to realize that the forest wasn't safe anymore. Almost nowhere was. She also knew she'd probably have to fight sooner than she would've liked. That was all right though. That was what she had been trained to do.

When Tauriel opened the door to the royal children's private chambers, Tinueth saw a table set for two. Tea was steaming on the stove, and a warm plate of cookies had been placed in the middle of the table. Legolas stood when he saw her and gestured for her to sit down, nodding his thanks to Tauriel as he did so. "Hello, Tinueth. How are you?"

"I am fine, Legolas. How about yourself?"

"I'm doing well-so is Elira. We have patrol tonight." A long silence began to stretch out between them, to the point where it got uncomfortable. "How was your session?"

"Fine. What did you want to talk to me about?"

He sighed heavily. "You're right. I wouldn't bother you just for small things like pleasantries-though if we're being honest I sometimes wish I could. I just wanted to show you something-and to say I'm sorry. Tell me if you remember this." He grabbed a piece of paper from the counter across the room and placed it between them. On it was a picture, obviously drawn by a small child. A sun set over the forest in bright shades of orange and yellow.

She shook her head. It wasn't familiar to her. There hadn't been small children in the palace for ages and ages now.

"You were just a little elfling when you drew this-the training hadn't started yet. You always used to look forward to seeing your siblings. You used to jump into my arms and I'd swing you around and around until we both fell in a heap, laughing. It's been an extremely long time since I've last heard you laugh." he concluded.

Tinueth shrugged. "Laughter is forbidden in the training room. I'm supposed to be focused, not making jokes whenever I feel like it."

"Well, it's not forbidden anywhere else."

She forced herself to confess. Legolas was her (half) brother, after all. He deserved her honesty. "I think I've forgotten how to."

The silence in the room grew and grew. Tinueth nibbled at the edges of a cookie politely, waiting for him to say something in reply.

"We had a fight a few decades ago."

Tinueth remembered it quite clearly. It had been the worst day of her life.

"I know."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for some of the things I said. I sometimes watch your sessions and I'm always amazed at what I see. You're a wonderful fighter-maybe even better than me. I wish we could spend more time together, but if you want to train I understand that too. The door to my room is always open for you."

Tinueth looked down. She didn't want to tell him that she loved spending time with him and Elira even more than she loved her training sessions. But her father kept her so busy that it was hard time for her to even say hello, much less practice archery with them.

Just then, the door opened once more and Elira rushed in, looking excited. "Legolas, the fish are jumping in the Forest River, near the gates. We should go see them."

Legolas looked torn. "Adar doesn't usually allow us to-"

"He's out of the palace for the day. We could take back roads. He would never have to know. Anyway, it'll be fun. Come on-I'll meet you there! You should come too, Tinueth." she added, almost as an afterthought. She threw open the window and climbed into a tree outside, balancing on a particularly thin branch with great ease. Usually, they didn't have cause to bend their father's strict rules, but when it came to being outside all bets were off. All three elves adored being outside.

Legolas shook his head in fake annoyance. "You're going to get us both in a lot of trouble one of these days, Elira!" He climbed onto the windowsill and glanced back at his sister. "Are you coming?"

Tinueth shook her head. She saw something flicker in her brother's eye-disappointment. She didn't understand why, though. After all, she was just following orders. That was doing the right thing, wasn't it?

Why was he looking at her like that if it was true?

Legolas shook his head once and disappeared out the window. Tinueth sighed inwardly. Things like this had happened before. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself she'd done the right thing by not following her siblings. Years of constantly following a long list of rules to the letter were beginning to wear on her. She knew they'd have more fun than she would in her weapons class.

She sat at the table, alone, for a long time, trying to make sense of her feelings. The cookie in her hand had long since grown cold.

In a small show of rebellion, Tinueth decided to stop by the forest's school for nobility before the evening meal. Her father wouldn't be happy with her, but he had never specifically ordered her not to go to the school.

It was easy to tell that autumn had come to the forest. Falling leaves pooled around her feet and caught in her hair. She took a short, pleasant walk down a well traversed path to reach the Gil-Galad School for Qualified Elflings. Elflings of noble birth started in the primary school at the age of five centuries and graduated in the upper school 1500 years later, when they reached adulthood. The three schools were interconnected and led into each other using many pathways that climbed the base of a few large trees. Tinueth stood just on the edge of the property, watching elves hurry back and forth, talking with their friends and classmates. Their hands were filled with books and other papers. She sighed almost longingly. She'd never gone to school. She'd never gotten to experience that sensation.

Unbidden, a memory leapt to the front of her mind.

_"Do you want to see the school, Tinueth?"_

_She claps her hands excitedly. Anything to get out of the palace. "Yeah!"_

_"Okay then-hold on tight!"_

_Tinueth shrieks with glee as Legolas lifts her up so she can see the buildings where most of the forest's elflings go to school each day. Legolas and Elira don't attend, because her father doesn't want them intermixing with who he calls 'common folk'. She's only 400 and too young to go to any kind of school, but she loves coming here with her siblings. "It's so big." she says in awe._

_"I know. Maybe someday, you'll be a student there. I've heard it's a lot of fun." No one can miss the note of longing in his voice. Tinueth knows that he really wants to go to the school, just like her._

_He just knows he'll never be allowed to._

A leaf got hopelessly tangled in her blonde hair, snapping Tinueth back to the present. It wasn't worth it daydreaming about school. She'd never be able to go, especially not now. Training took up too much of her time. In fact, it was hard for her to believe that she'd once been that laughing, smiling little elfling.

A group of elleths waved to her from a window in the intermediate school as she tried to disentangle the leaf without pulling out a few good sized chunks of hair. They looked how most elves her age looked-they were smiling and laughing over some inside joke. Their hair was parted in exactly the same way. Tinueth wondered what it was like to be part of a group like that. In all 1342 years of her life, she'd never once made a friend.

In spite of herself and in spite of all her prior training, she waved back and even tried to smile a little bit. Just then, a loud trumpet blast rang through the air-it was time for the evening meal back at the palace. Feeling a small pang of regret, Tinueth turned away from the school and began the lonely walk back to her home.

It didn't do to dwell on dreams, especially ones that would never come true.

**Please review, follow, and favorite! I welcome constructive criticism as well. I'd like to hear what you think about this story.**

**Namarie,**

**Moco**


	3. Memories

**Onto the next chapter! Remember, feedback is always appreciated.**

**This chapter contains a lot of my favorite story element: backstory. **

Chapter 2-Memories

That night, for the first time in a long while, Tinueth opened the bottom drawer of her bedroom desk. There was only one item inside it-a small white album filled with handmade drawings. Every picture had been drawn by Elira, who was a truly gifted artist. Looking at her pictures, Tinueth could almost imagine herself right in the middle of the scenes depicted.

The first picture in the album was faded with age, curled and yellowed at the edges. A girl sat on the edge of a bed, holding a baby in her arms. A boy sat next to them, one arm around the girl and the other gently holding one of the baby's hands in his own. The scene was immortalized in charcoal, with the words TINUETH-DAUGHTER OF STARLIGHT. BORN OCTOBER 4th inked in carefully at the bottom of the page.

Tinueth couldn't remember much about the day of her birth or even her first century. She just remembered flashes of heat, color, and laughter-lots of laughter. After that…she could still remember some memories, but they were much, much different than the others. They were cold, grey, and filled with tears: a minister droning on about life after death and a coffin covered with flowers. Someone placing a wooden sword in her hand. Hitting her first target. Feeling her father's pride when she shot an arrow for the very first time.

Until she was around 900, she'd spent every waking minute with her siblings. On weekends and after lessons, they'd explored the forest on sunny days and books on rainy days. They'd swam in the Forest River in the summer, jumped in leaf piles in the fall, picked bouquets of fresh flowers to brighten up the palace in the spring, and occasionally built snowmen in the winter if it snowed. She hadn't seen a lot of her father. He was gone a lot of the time, behind closed doors and whispered voices. However, she didn't really mind much. As long as she had her brother and sister, her life was perfect and complete.

Then everything changed.

Not all at once though: very slowly and deceptively. Her father had started making her go to private training lessons more and more for longer and longer periods of time. She had less and less time to spend with Legolas and Elira and had to concentrate more and more on war tactics and strategies. Her siblings sometimes had to sneak into her room at night in order to see her. It didn't matter that they were breaking rules, though. They were still together.

Then Tinueth turned 1,000. That was an important birthday in elven culture, so Thranduil offered to take time out of his schedule and take her to the kingdom's marketplace. Tinueth had always wanted to see the marketplace, and she wasn't disappointed. That day was one of the best of her life; she met lots of new people and saw more products than she even knew existed in the world.

It was then that Thranduil began to tell her of his plans for the future and of the vigorous amount of training she required. She knew they were meant to protect her, but she was also well aware that they would probably backfire, forcing her into a life she didn't want. However, for all his flaws she loved her father and wanted to please him, no matter what. Besides, it felt so nice to be spending time with him and to be treated like his equal. She liked that feeling of being special and important. She really wanted to feel it again.

By the end of the day, she had been convinced of two things: she could become a powerful soldier, and she could protect her brother and sister.

It would take work, though. Lots and lots of it. She wouldn't get to spend as much time with Legolas and Elira as she would have liked to. However, it would be worth it someday. Thranduil had promised her so, so she believed it.

Things changed after that. Tinueth was allowed into her father's private study for the first time in her life and he began to carve out more time in his schedule to spend with her. She began to tell him about everything, including her siblings' visits. That night, her bedroom door was padlocked shut by order of the king. Tinueth was instructed not to tell Legolas and Eea that she was awake. _They can't stay up at night like that. You all need your sleep. It'll just be for a few months. It's for the best._

The first night her door was locked, there was a small tap on her window late at night. Without looking, Tinueth knew her siblings must have been clever enough to find another way in. With a heavy heart, she pretended to be asleep. She lay awake for hours, barely breathing as the knocks on her windowpane grew fainter and farther between before they disappeared altogether. The next morning, she actively avoided her siblings, taking her meals separately and spending the entire day holed up in the training room.

Legolas and Elira got the message. She didn't receive any more visits from them-at night or otherwise.

Tinueth's schedule grew more and more crowded. She spent hours with different trainers and mentors, mastering the use of swords, daggers, and bows. Her education was spotty and she only received a couple hours of formal instruction a day at best. She didn't mind though. She could read, write, and do basic sums. She didn't need to know anything else. She isolated herself from her siblings. She didn't rush to meet them after her training sessions as she once had. She didn't go on forest excursions with them on the weekends. Eventually, she stopped talking to them. She convinced herself they didn't notice her absence-or care about it.

One afternoon, Legolas interrupted her training session, something he'd never done before. He didn't ask permission of her instructor. He just told Tinueth that he wanted to speak with her in the hallway-privately.

Tinueth wasn't nervous exactly, but a hard knot of dread was beginning to form in her stomach. "What is it?" she asked as soon as they were alone. She was anxious to get back to her training, especially since she could guess what this conversation would be about. She wasn't ready to have it just yet.

"Elira and I are going to hike to the top of Valinor Hill and will camp there overnight. Would you like to come?" Valinor Hill was a mound of earth in the middle of the forest that was smaller than a mountain but larger than your normal hill. The three of them had loved to camp there as children, bringing a few blankets so they could sleep under the stars.

"Sorry. I'm busy tonight."

"Doing what?"

"Training. And…in the forest's present climate, do you really think it wise to sleep out in the open unprotected?" Over the past few years, the forest had been growing more and more dangerous. Spiders wandered in the dark places near the tree line and patrols disappeared and never returned. Trade had become restricted, as most of their partners were now hesitant to make the perilous journey down the elven road. There were mutterings of a deep evil in the fortress of Dol Guldur, infecting all it touched. Most elves were beginning to wonder if it would ever truly be banished.

"We'll take turns at watch, of course. Besides, Tauriel will be coming with us as well. I know you've given up on the forest, but I haven't." He almost sounded hurt.

"I never said I have. Besides, why are you asking me to come with you when it sounds like I've already been replaced?" She knew this wasn't fair of her to say. Tauriel had been a close friend to her siblings since before Tinueth was born. Still, these camping trips had always been just for the royal children.

"We never replaced you. Adar insisted a member of the Guard accompany us and Tauriel happened to be available."

"Are you sure you didn't choose her for the specific reason that she's your friend?"

"Of course not. Why are you being so irritable?"

"I'm not being irritable!" She was starting to get frustrated because she had realized she couldn't lie to her brother as easily as she could lie to herself. "I just have a training exercise tonight that I can't miss."

"Are you sure you're really training? Sometimes it seems like you're just trying to get away from us."

"I have things I have to do. It has nothing to do with you or Elira at all."

"What did we do? Why are you spending so much time training? Don't think we haven't noticed. You're never around, and when you are you never want to spend time with us. Why are you pushing us away? These last couple of centuries, you've become increasingly distant. You actively try to avoid us. What happened?"

"It's all part of my training. Legolas, you have to believe me when I say that I'm not upset with either of you. It's just the way things have to be right now."

"Why are you training so much? Is there a war going on that I should know about?"

She wondered how much to tell him before simply settling on the truth. He'd learn sooner or later anyway. "No. I'm training to be a soldier-the best in the Realm. I can't let anything distract me from that goal-like you are right now. I'd appreciate it if you don't bother me again. I have things to do and places I need to be. I don't have time for this. I don't have time for you. I'm sorry, I really am, but…this is my path. I still love you and I still love Eea, but I can't spend time with you two anymore. It just won't work with my schedule. In fact, it would probably be best for everyone if you simply pretend I don't exist. If anyone asks, you only have one sister-and that isn't me." She had to practically spit the words out. There was a lump in her throat that made it almost impossible to force her to hurt one of the people who mattered most to her. She started to walk away, eyes blurred with tears so that she could hardly see straight.

From behind her, she could hear Legolas say "You're my sister. How am I supposed to forget you?"

"I don't know. Just…just leave me alone. Please." Tinueth began to run, hearing her shoes squeak on the polished marble floors of the palace.

She ran to her room and flung herself onto her bed. She cried despite her best efforts, tears of pain and frustration. This was her chosen path. She knew that. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she sometimes wish she could slide down bannisters again, skip down hallways, swim in rivers, or get into pillow fights with her siblings? Why did she have to wreck everything, even when she was only doing the right thing?

She wasn't sure she knew what the right thing was anymore.

Just then, she saw her copy of the family portrait hanging on the wall across from her bed. It had been painted shortly after she was born, when the Greenwood was still healthy and peaceful. Needing an outlet for her destructive anger, she screamed and leapt across the room. Summoning strength she didn't know she possessed, she grabbed the portrait and threw it at the wall. The frame splintered and broke, leaving a sizeable dent in the wall. Still seeing red, she ripped the paper painting to shreds.

Who was she, really?

Not the sweet little girl Legolas remembered-or thought he did.

That Tinueth was gone.

She was never, ever coming back.

Tinueth snapped back to the present. That had all happened long ago. Her relationship with her brother and sister had deteriorated beyond repair. It was just too hard to set things up with their complicated schedules. They'd tried occasionally to schedule dinners or nights to stargaze on, but they had never worked out. Tinueth knew that her siblings were doing fine without her. They had their own circles of elves and their own friends.

She was still confused though. After everything she had done, why had Legolas invited her for tea?

Did he (and Elira) really want to try again?

Did they believe that they could still be close, like they once were?

She could tell him that he was wasting his time, but she thought something was different. He had seemed more determined, like he wasn't going to take no for an answer. She didn't know exactly when Legolas had acquired this newfound determination, but it had shown more and more over the past few months. Whether it was going on patrols in the most dangerous part of the forest or hosting dinners for his friends in the palace Guard, he seemed to be less and less satisfied with the answers his father gave him for reasons why he couldn't leave. Their relationship had begun to fray. Sometimes Tinueth thought there were three separate teams in the palace: Legolas, who wanted to make friends outside the palace among other things; Thranduil, the isolationist; and her-completely neutral.

Elira was equally on everyone's side. She and Legolas had been friends since they were very young and she supported almost all of his decisions, but she didn't often venture outside the palace gates. That didn't change no matter what Legolas did, because she didn't like meeting new people. She'd been cursed years ago. No one knew how or why, but Elira could only talk to the people she'd talked to before she'd been cursed. That meant she couldn't communicate with her best friends, even Tauriel. Their entire friendship consisted of written notes or messages relayed by Legolas. Tinueth knew she hated it. She could talk freely with everyone in her family, but if she had to ask a servant to buy her a new pair of boots at the marketplace, she'd have to write down the specifics on a sheet of paper first. It was a long and tedious process that was better left avoided. They'd tried everything to have the curse lifted and had gone to see every person with magic they could think of, but nothing worked. Thranduil had once told Tinueth that was one of the reasons why he wanted to keep his children so close to home-because no harm would come to them in the palace borders, boring as it may seem.

She walked over to her closet and pulled out a small lacquered box. Inside were the shreds of the portrait, which she'd found herself unable to burn. Now, she clutched them tightly as she snuck down to the empty kitchens and mixed together some milk, flour, and water. For half the night, Tinueth worked carefully and diligently to paste the painting back together again. When it was finished, she surveyed it closely. She felt as though she'd just taken a trip back in a time warp.

There was her father-wise and devoted to his people.

Her mother was next to him. Her smile seemed to light up the entire room.

There was her brother-athletic and understanding.

Her sister-graceful and smart.

And finally her, sleeping peacefully in Elira's arms.

The picture had been broken, just like their family was broken now. However, with a few supplies and a lot of time and care, it was now in one piece.

Could they be repaired as well?

Tinueth knew there was only one way she could find out for sure. However, it would involve disobeying a direct order.

Could she do it?

Tinueth pondered the question for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion: Yes, she could.

A note, written on light yellow notepaper, was found underneath Elira's bedroom door the next morning:

Elira,

Could you please teach me how to dance?

I know I've been really distant lately, and I'm really sorry. Please give me another chance.

If you want to, please meet me in the formal ballroom tomorrow night, ten and a half hours after midday. I hope to see you there, but if you don't come I'll understand.

I know it's been way too long since I last said this to you, but I still want to see you. Please forgive me.

From,

Tinueth

Tinueth was proud of her letter. It wasn't much, and it definitely wasn't long, but every single word she'd written had come right from her heart.

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	4. Dancing Lessons

**Here is the next chapter! It's a little shorter than the previous ones.**

Chapter 3-Dancing Lessons

Tinueth couldn't concentrate the next day. She flitted from one training lesson to the next, daydreaming, wondering, and doing anything but hitting her targets correctly.

Her lack of finesse didn't go unnoticed.

"Farlae tells me you weren't up to par in training today. What happened?" Thranduil asked, casually cutting into a piece of steak. It was a Wednesday night, and Tinueth's appetite was gone. She could clearly read the underlying meaning in her father's words: answer in a satisfactory fashion or spend the weekend in the dungeons.

"I was distracted. I'm sorry, Adar."

"Soldiers of such a high caliber as yourself have no time for distractions."

"I know, and once again I apologize." Tinueth knew that if she wanted to ask her father what she really wanted to ask him she'd better do it politely. "I was wondering, though…is it all right if we…lessen the training a little bit?" She said it all in one breath, before she could lose her nerve.

She didn't think Thranduil would have looked more surprised if she'd told him she planned to jump off a cliff. "What do you mean?"

"What if…I only trained for four or five hours a day?"

"What would you do for the remainder of the day?"

"Reconnect with Legolas and Elira. We're siblings. I should be getting to know them, not isolating myself completely." Tinueth was trying desperately to make him understand. He _had _to understand.

"You shouldn't become attached to those you have a duty to protect."

"I want to take that chance. Please, Adar."

"No. And that's final." A steely glint had entered Thranduil's eye that signaled the conversation was over. "You'll be spending the next three days in the dungeons for your lack of attention. I expect more of you."

"I'll miss the Feast of Starlight! That's my favorite holiday. Please, can't I stay in the dungeons for two days instead?"

"No. I've made my decision and I will stand with it."

Something snapped inside Tinueth, causing her to stand up and practically throw her napkin onto the table. "I don't want to be your little soldier anymore. I am not a weapon. I am a teenage girl. I think you forget that sometimes. I forget that too, because I've tried so hard to fit your mold. Maybe you were able to control me as a little girl, but not anymore. Either let me spend time with my siblings or I will quit."

With that, she left the room. She was filled with a wild, uncontrollable excitement until she reached her bedroom. Then she realized what she'd just done-and what the repercussions might be.

She didn't know why she'd blown up at her father like that. Just yesterday, she'd been content to follow orders and today she'd talked back to the King, no less, for the first time in centuries. What had changed in just a few hours?

More importantly, just what had she started?

Because she had nothing better to do, Tinueth was waiting in the ballroom well before 10:30. The minutes ticked by, but no one came. She began to panic as the meeting time came and went. It was too late. Elira wasn't coming.

Just then, the door to the room opened and her older sister stepped in. "Tinueth?" she whispered quietly. "Are you here?"

"Yes." Tinueth stepped into the small pool of golden light the amber lamps cast from where they hung in their sconces on the wall. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I thought you might have still been mad at me."

"Why would I be mad at you? We haven't really talked in years."

"Exactly."

Elira thought for a second. "My birth father once told me that true siblings look past each other's flaws, no matter what. He should know, too. He had seven older brothers, two older sisters, and three younger sisters. He said that things could get really rough between them…but they always forgave each other."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what."

"Thank you, Elira."

"Of course." She squeezed Tinueth's hand and surveyed the empty ballroom. "So, you'd like to learn how to dance?"

"Yes, in time for the Feast of Starlight if that's possible. Even though Adar said I'm not allowed to attend."

"I'll see what I can do. For now, let's start out with a waltz. They're pretty simple…" Elira began to snap her fingers as she hummed a soft waltz melody, keeping time as she danced across the deserted floor. She was light on her feet and seemed to float rather than move from one position to the next. Tinueth wanted to be able to do that too. She wanted to feel weightless and to have every eye in the room drawn to her just by the way she moved her feet.

They practiced for the rest of the night-laughing, twirling, and occasionally tripping over their skirts. Tinueth quickly realized she wasn't very good. Dancing was almost nothing like sparring. Her movements had to be slow and flowing instead of crisp and precise. However, she didn't mind being corrected. In fact, she relished any opportunity to gain Elira's attention. By the time the gray light of dawn began to seep through the ballroom windows, Tinueth was exhausted but elated.

"We can practice again tonight, if you'd like. You're doing quite well for your first time." Elira said as she twisted her hair into a neat side braid.

"That would be wonderful!" Tinueth couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. "I love dancing!"

"How long have you wanted to learn?"

"For centuries now."

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?"

"I don't know. I guess I was just embarrassed, especially since Adar wouldn't approve. I looked at your album last night-the one you made for me-and I just wanted to see the two of you again. Were the river fish as jumpy as you thought they'd be?"

"Yes. We'll take you for sure next year."

Tinueth nodded and looked down at her shoes. "Thank you for tonight. When I dance…it feels like I'm creating a language of my own that only I can understand. It's a nice feeling and I really like it."

"So do I. You're not the only one who understands that language. All dancers do-even people who wish they were. Dance connects people from all backgrounds and walks of life. It makes them feel-"

"Free."

Elira nodded. "Yes. It certainly does."

They parted in the last light of the amber lamps, which shone like stars in the dark room.

That day, Tinueth danced down the hallways from one training session to the next. She threw knives and shot arrows as she dreamed about dancing across the ballroom floor at the Feast. She wanted to dance in front of crowds of happy, smiling elves, all watching her.

On her way to her solitary Friday night dinner, she walked demurely down the stone hallway of the palace as she was supposed to. Her back was straight and her eyes were fixed on a point directly ahead of her. Her strides were even and measured, and her hands were lying flat at her sides, the way she'd been taught. However, as soon as she was absolutely sure she was completely alone, she began to snap her fingers in an imitation of the waltz rhythm Elira had taught her the previous night. Before she knew what she was doing, she was practicing her dance steps from the previous night and dancing to an invisible beat only she could hear.

The sound of leather on linoleum alerted her to her father's presence just in time. She jumped to a sharp attention at the very second her father turned the corner. "Tinueth." he acknowledged expressionlessly.

Tinueth's heart dropped like a stone, but she wasn't surprised. Her father would never forgive her for disobedience that easily. "Well met, Adar."

"We had a disagreement Wednesday night that I don't believe we have fully resolved. Know this: you will be spending all of next week-including the Feast of Starlight-in the dungeons. You will also be required to continue your training until I believe you are proficient enough at what you are being taught. Outbursts do not convince me that you are making progress during your lessons and they will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?"

She looked down sadly, though she hadn't expected anything different really. She was lucky her father wasn't angrier with her, in fact. It had been a foolish thing to speak out. She knew that. She had to get a handle on her emotions, if she ever wanted to stop training. There was no one to blame; only herself. She would do better next time. "Yes Adar."

He bowed curtly to her and disappeared around the corner. Soon he was out of sight and she was able to continue her journey to the palace kitchens.

She didn't feel like dancing anymore.

The evening meal that night was a sad and lonely affair. For the first time she realized how truly empty the kitchen was. She hated the silence. It seemed to press in on her unpleasantly.

Tinueth was torn. She couldn't decide whether or not she should follow Thranduil's orders without resistance. She knew she should of course, but her siblings would be long gone by the time he announced her skills to be proficient. He expected more from her, more even than he expected from Legolas.

She sighed and cut into a piece of bread despondently. She just wished he didn't expect quite so much.

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	5. The Feast of Starlight

Chapter 4-The Feast of Starlight

Tinueth surveyed herself in the floor to ceiling mirror on the other side of the room. She could barely recognize herself, even though she'd spent weeks making the dress herself. It was light green and came down to just above her ankles. She'd also arranged her hair loosely around her shoulders instead of keeping it in its usual stiff plait. She looked very different than she did any other day of the year. Today was a special day-the Feast of Starlight. Everyone was required to dress up.

The dressing room's door opened and Thranduil came in to select the jewels he'd be wearing at the party that night. He seemed only mildly surprise to see Tinueth. "Why are you dressed? You know perfectly well you won't be attending tonight's celebrations." he said. His words were clipped and annoyed-and Tinueth could guess why. The news had travelled like wildfire through the halls of the palace and the rest of the kingdom. A company of thirteen dwarves had been found trespassing in the forest and were now in the dungeons. They were led by Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor, cousin to Dain.

Tinueth wished she could have been on the patrol that caught the dwarves, but she'd been working through some basic knife drills instead. She remembered when the patrol came back and how a sudden clamor had arose in the main hallway as they took their prisoners to the dungeons. Her instructor for the hour, Maegalon, had stopped class and gone outside to see what all the ruckus was about. Tinueth had watched from the doorway as the dwarves were marched to the cell block one by one. They were all dirty, weary, and covered in cobwebs. She wondered if the elves hadn't just done them a favor by taking them in. They wouldn't have survived long on their own. At least her people weren't in the habit of direct executions. Slow starvation, yes, but not executions.

Thranduil had tried to bargain with Thorin by making a deal-he would let the dwarves go if they returned the jewels of Lasgalen still in the dragon's hoard. The jewels had special significance to the entire royal family, as they had belonged to his first wife before her untimely death. However, Thorin had refused the deal. Most elves were shocked. No one-absolutely no one-refused a deal with Thranduil, the king of the Woodland Realm, in his own kingdom.

"You're daydreaming again."

Tinueth tried to pay attention. "I'm sorry, Adar."

"I expect to see improvement-not more excuses." He pressed a key ring into her palm. It had just one key hanging on it and was otherwise unadorned. "Lock yourself in." Then he was gone, probably to oversee some last minute preparations. The Feast was the one holiday the palace hosted-and Thranduil hated playing host.

Tinueth obediently walked down to the dungeons-and her cell. It was hers, as she'd stayed there before when she'd misbehaved as a young child. It wasn't too small, and she was taken care of if she was spending more than half a day there-a small mattress and blanket lay on the floor at the back of the cell and a tray of food lay in the corner. She knew exactly how to lock the door from the inside and hang the key on a hook outside the door. Once she'd accomplished that, she sat down to wait. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait long. The dungeons were close to the River, and they were a lot colder than the actual palace.

As she kept a silent vigil, sound filtered down from the halls upstairs. The guests had already arrived, as Tinueth could hear lots of voices. Still she waited. Later in the night, there was the clink of silverware against cutlery to announce the beginning of the feast itself, followed by the faintest strains of waltz music. She wished with her entire being that she was already up there, dancing with the other elves.

Just then, footsteps stopped outside her door and the key turned in the lock. Tinueth readied herself to pounce, out of habit, until Legolas gently pushed the door inward. "Had enough of the dungeon for tonight?"

"Yes. Are you sure he won't notice I'm there?" She followed her brother out of the cell and into a small alcove off the main cell block where they could talk without being overheard. Elira was already waiting for them.

Legolas and Elira exchanged a glance over her head. "Probably not. It's quite busy tonight. Besides, Thranduil wouldn't send you to the dungeons in the middle of a party. He wouldn't want to cause a scene in front of all his guests. You might want to be on your best possible behavior though, just in case. And stick to the dance floor-you know he doesn't dance."

Tinueth wouldn't have any trouble following her piece of advice. "I will. Let's go-otherwise the party will be over by the time we even get to the ballroom." Tinueth ran the entire way upstairs. She'd been to the dungeons so many times, either as a punishment or to do a routine check on the security of the cell doors, that she knew the path clearly.

Just as she'd imagined it would be, the ballroom was filled with elves. Some were dancing, but most were just standing in small groups, talking to friends they hadn't seen all year. The celebrations attracted elves from all over the kingdom-mostly because of the fresh Dorwinion wine Thranduil made and bottled himself. Out of habit, Tinueth scanned the partygoers for a couple of her friends from other noble families. None of them were there, or if they were she couldn't find them. She wasn't surprised. Even travel through the forest had become risky for the unwary.

"Are you going to dance?" Legolas asked.

"Yes." Still, she didn't move for a few minutes. She wanted to drink in the scene as much as she could-because she was sure that when Thranduil found out what she'd done she'd be in the dungeons until she reached adulthood. From beside her, she heard Legolas ask Elira to dance and the couple brushed past her to the other side of the ballroom. Tinueth almost laughed as she watched them go. Legolas didn't really like dancing, but his father required him to dance at least one dance at formal balls and other parties. She guessed that after this dance he'd go have a drink with some of his friends in the Guard, as that was his party activity of choice. He was a good dancer, though.

The band struck up another waltz, and this time Tinueth couldn't help it: she had to dance. Almost without realizing it her feet began to move and soon she was spinning around the dance floor, caught in a net of sound and light.

She danced for song after song after song. Her feet never got tired. Every so often she stopped to say hello to elves she knew, though she never saw her friends. For most of the night she danced. It didn't matter that she didn't have a partner. She didn't need one.

After a while, she stopped to get something to drink. She was starting to feel dizzy and lightheaded. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't had a proper lunch that day. Before she could drink her entire cup of water, Legolas found her and asked her to dance. Of course, she accepted. She put her cup down on the edge of the bar and quickly forgot it as the next song started.

At first, she felt awkward dancing with a partner but she relaxed into it after a song or two-mostly because Legolas was just having fun. He didn't mind if she stepped on his feet every now and then-and neither did she. They danced for a few songs, until the musicians announced that they would be playing their last song. Tinueth looked for Elira across the dance floor and saw her bidding her partner farewell. It didn't look like she had anyone lined up for the last dance. "You should go dance with Elira." she told Legolas.

He followed her line of sight. "I'm sure she already has someone."

"It doesn't look like it. Go on-ask her. I'll be fine. I think I want to dance this one myself." She practically shoved him backwards.

"Are you sure you won't be lonely?"

"Legolas, please go dance with her-because your little sister wants you to." She hadn't played the little sister card in years.

He smiled and shook his head. "Of course. I'll stop by your cell after the Feast to make sure you're settled in."

"I look forward to it. Hannon le."

"My pleasure." He bowed to her and pushed his way through the crowd of elves so he could reach Elira.

In that moment, Tinueth wished a million things as couples spun and danced around her-but she wished most of all that she could freeze time. She could see her father, watching the dancing from his throne with a small smile. There were Legolas and Elira, dancing together happily. Everyone was happy. Everything was peaceful. She wanted to stay here amid smiling people and dancing couples, wrapped in music, for the rest of her life.

When the music stopped and the musicians began to pack up their instruments, she was hesitant to leave. However, the decision was made for her when Thranduil stepped down from his throne to conclude the celebration and dismiss the people. He looked right at her, and his eyes flashed with a glint of steel in them.

She took a step forward to go back to her cell. It wouldn't matter now though. She'd been seen.

One step was all it took. The whole sensation was quick and intense: the ballroom seemed to spin and then crash down around her.

Everything went dark.

When Tinueth came to, she was in a dim room lying on soft covers. She groaned as she rolled over, trying to get her bearings. Through a haze of confusion, she recognized the palace infirmary. She'd been here a few times throughout the centuries, usually as a result of training accidents. She never felt as she did right now-extremely tired and weary.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to wipe sleep from her eyes.

"She's awake." someone said. The same someone pushed a glass of water into her hands and said "Drink."

Obediently, Tinueth drained the cup. The elf refilled it and gave to her again. Dimly, she recognized her as Ithil, one of Elira's friends. She was training to be a healer. "Ithil, what happened?"

"Simple dehydration. You'll be fine tomorrow morning, but you're going to need to drink a lot of water." Ithil refilled her glass twice more before she instructed Tinueth to lie back on the bed's many pillows. "People have been stopping in and out all night to see if you're all right. You've become quite famous. But really, you should know better. Don't they tell you in those classes of yours to make sure you drink enough water?"

"Yes. I just…forgot."

"You forgot."

"Yes! I'm not lying."

Ithil rolled her eyes. "It could have been a lot worse than it was. Get some sleep now."

Tinueth complied. She wanted to replay every second of what had quickly become the best night of her life.

**Translation from Elfish:**

**Hannon le-Thank you**

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